Wishful Thinking
by Bonjour Bonito
Summary: There’s something about the way he looks when he’s concentrating that makes you itch to be irrational...Onesided SeamusDean. SLASH. Second Person. Seamus centric.


**A/N: **I guess it should be noted that I haven't actually read the HP books (do try to suppress that sudden urge to strangle me), but I somehow find myself addicted to fiction for this fandom. I had originally written this as a 3 paragraph drabble, but as you'll notice, it kinda took on a mind of its own. I guess you can consider this AU if you're one for specifics and whatnot. Just basically keep in mind that **Ginny and Dean never dated in this fic, and it takes place during Dean and Seamus' 6th year.**

Written in second person (Seamus)

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**Wishful Thinking**

There's something about the way he looks when he's concentrating that makes you itch to be irrational. To just fuck him on the table in the common room, with everyone watching as ink and quills fall carelessly to the floor. But you're never able to relieve that particular itch because he's Dean Thomas, your best friend, and you're simply Seamus Finnigan, that Irish Gryffindor lad who's most definitely attracted to the opposite sex.

But when he bites his bottom lip with that pensive expression on his face you like to forget those nagging facts if only for the briefest of moments. You like to think instead that if you sat yourself right next to him on the sofa, and rested your hand on his knee that he wouldn't stare back at you with a look of both confusion and distaste. That if you silently removed the sketchbook from his lap, Ginny Weasley's green eyes wouldn't be staring almost tauntingly back up at you. And that if you slowly trailed kisses along his jaw line he wouldn't jump away and demand reasons for your seemingly erratic behavior.

But months of conceiving false illusions have finally taught you to abandon wishful thinking for rational thought, so you quickly make your way over to the sofa and plop down next to him adorning a painfully bright smile that you've somehow managed to perfect in less than a week.

You bump the side of his knee with your own to get his attention and casually offer him a chocolate frog. When he declines flippantly, you grab the sketchbook from off his lap and declare in a voice so playful that you almost believe it yourself, "Why Dean, I do believe you're becoming obsessed with Miss Weasely. In fact, your obvious infatuation with her has become, at least in my opinion, a matter of grave concern."

You raise the sketchbook over your head as Dean moves to take it back.

"I am not obsessed nor am I infatuated with Ginny." He denies indignantly. Of course you know he's lying, you can tell by the way he twitches slightly as her name rolls off his tongue, and at that moment you don't know whether to snort or to scream. "And I suggest you hand over my sketchbook before I resort to drastic measures to _take_ it back."

You can't help but smirk at his huffiness. "Drastic Measures? If you consider pouting like a little girl 'drastic measures' than you should really rethink your scare tactics."

You try to suppress a chuckle ashe crosses his arms over his chest in a very haughty manner after another failed attempt to grab his sketchbook, "I am an artist Seamus, and we artist do not _pout. _We merely sulk."

"My mistake, mate. I must have forgotten that being an insufferable git is an artist's first prerogative."

"Insufferable git?" Dean repeats the words rather defensively; though you can see the beginnings of a smile hinting at the corners of his mouth "_You're _the prat that's taken my sketchbook hostage."

You feign a look of innocence at the accusation, "Why Deany me boy, you can't honestly believe that I would temporarily confiscate your precious sketchbook without having the purest intentions at heart." You lean back against the sofa lazily and close the sketchbook, anxious to rid yourself of Ginny's piercing green eyes. "Why, I'm merely looking out for your best interest, of course."

Heraises a dark eyebrow at that, "My best interest? How in the world is _stealing_ one of my most prized possessions in 'my best interest'?"

You heave a dramatic sigh at his oblivious expression, "Dean, Dean, Dean, must I really restate the obvious? It's apparent that you fancy Ginny, if the 30 pictures you've drawn of her serve as any indication."

"Oh c'mon, it's just art. It doesn't mean I fancy her."

"Dean, I've seen you snogging them."

"That was only once. And for the hundredth time, I wasn't actually _snogging_ her picture; I was merely observing my work…with my lips."

You roll your eyes at the poorly delivered excuse and pat Dean's shoulder in a very "There, there" gesture. You're not sure whetherto laugh or cry at how easily you fall into your routine banter with Dean, because in reality, you couldn't feel any less connected with your best friend. You know, however, that acting like a sullen fool over feelings that go unrequited isn't likely to get you anywhere so you plaster on that playful smile once again, this time with full force.

"Dean, the depth of your denial is quite frightening."

He merely snorts, "You're delusional, mate."

"I'm serious. You're basically toeing that fine line between innocent school boy crush and full blown obsession."

"For the last time Seamus, I am not _obsessed. _Just because I've drawn a few…30 pictures of Ginny doesn't make me some lovesick plonker. I am an artist and…"

"Oh c'mon, not more of the _'I'm an artist'_ rhetoric." You interrupt impatiently. "You know you fancy Ginny. I know you fancy Ginny. Merlin, _Ginny_ probably knows you fancy her. Now go on and _do_ something about it mate before I bloody lose me mind!"

Your forcefulness catches you both by surprise and you have to take a breath to prevent yourself from shuddering. You don't know where the outburst came from, but the fact that he insist on denying his feelings for Ginny only succeeds in angering you for some reason.

Dean stares at you for a moment as if debating his response before closing his eyes and slouching against the sofa. "You just don't know what it's like, Shay. I mean, I want to be with her so badly, but I don't think I could stomach the rejection if she turned me down. It's like I just _know_ she couldn't see me as anything other than an friend, even if she tried, and the mere thought of confirming my suspicions is too much to swallow."

If you hadn't had your wits about you, you honestly think you would have laughed in his face right then and there. The irony of his words are almost too _fucking_ much, and you're suddenly thankful that his eyes are still closed because there's a twisted smile on your lips before you even have time to think. You suppose it might not have hurt so much if there had been actual merit to Dean's words. If Ginny really wasn't capable of reciprocating his feelings for her. But you know otherwise. You're well aware of her opinions over Dean. As luck would have it, you've always had the pleasure of passing by in the middle of one of her conversations with her friends. You've heard the incessant gushing. You've seen the creeping blush after she'd realized Dean had been watching her during meals. And you've witnessed the challenging glint in her eyes whenever she passed him in the hall. It's all enough to make you scream aloud because you honestly can't understand how anyone could be so painfully blind to what's been staring them in the face for ages.

And that, you suppose, is what stings most of all.

That he really could have her if he tried. And that if he did admit his feelings they would be together. But mainly it's the fact that once they were together, they would both be happy. He would be happy.

With _her_.

"OW!" Dean exclaims, eyes fluttering open suddenly as he reached to touch the top of his head, "What was that for!"

"I was attempting to get your attention so I could inform you on just how much of a plonker you really are."

"Well was smacking me with my own sketchbook really necessary? I mean the words, _'Dean, you are a plonker'_ would have sufficed just fine thank you." He says, continuing to rub his head sorely.

"Well I got my point across, didn't I?" You take Dean's death glare as a 'yes' and continue, "Look mate, I don't know what Ginny you were talking about earlier, but the Ginny _I_ know practically drools in your wake."

He stares at you with a look of confusion, "What are you on about now?" You can tell he's deliberately trying to sound annoyed, but you don't miss the small hitch of hope in his voice.

Though you really wish you had.

"I'm just saying that I know for a fact that Ginny Weasley fancies you," You're not sure how you've managed to stay so calm, but it takes everything in you to keep your voice from breaking in even the slightest way, "And I know that if you just tell her how you feel you won't be disappointed by her response."

He stares at you curiously at first, as if he's trying to process the meaning behind your words. You can tell he's doubtful, but the same hope you dread is even more evident in his brown eyes. He bites his bottom lip and his features revert to the same pensive expression that he wore before you sat down with him. He looks at his sketchbook, which you still have in your hands, before promptly standing up and looking down at you with a hesitant smile, "Do you really think I have chance Shay?"

You smirk at him though your body stiffens.

"I _know_ you do, mate".

Apparently that's all the reassurance he needs because almost immediately following your reply his smile broadens and he stands a little bit taller, "Alright then, I guess I'll go tell her," he declares with newfound confidence. Under different circumstances, you would probably tease him for being such a doubtful prat, but you're barely able to keep your breathing at a steady rate much less mock him.

It's hard to stay focused. Hard for you to sit still.

He turns to leave, but pivots slightly as if he's forgotten something. He looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face, and you remember that you still have his sketchbook. You motion for him to take it, but he cuts you off with a wave of the hand.

"No, you keep it for now," He says sternly, before waggling his eyebrows in a very un-Dean like manner, "With any luck, I'll be so occupied with _other _things that I won't need it for the remainder of the evening."

You know it's only meant to be a joke, but the chuckle dies in your throat at the possibilities behind his words. You try to ignore the emotions running rampant within you as you watch him walk towards the exit.

He turns once again, and smiles. It's so full of sincerity that you can't help but smile back.

"Thanks, Seamus" He says simply, and you nod your head in response. He continues to look at you, a moment longer than necessary, you note, before turning once again to leave

You watch his back as he goes, smile quickly faltering.

You glance down at the sketchbook in your hands and notice that your fingers are trembling slightly.

You wish you could be happy for him. Really, you do, but you've done enough lying to yourself for one evening, and you don't think you can handle any more. You can't help but feel that you're losing him somehow, which is completely ridiculous because he was never really _yours_ to begin with.

At least not in the sense that you want.

Besides, it doesn't really matter because you're simply Seamus Finnigan, that Irish Gryffindor lad who's most definitely attracted to the opposite sex, and he's just Dean Thomas, your best friend.

You just wish that was enough.

- **конец (end)-**

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**A/N:** Oh the angst that is one-sided love (Note to self: write fluffy Deamus fic in near future). I think Dean and Seamus were thoroughly OOC (but then again, I'm just basingwhat I knowfrom other fics I have read). 

As always, reviews are appreciated and encouraged.  
-Andee


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